


Sick

by SiriuslySherlocked



Series: Sherlock Is a Real Human Being Unfortunately For Him [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caring, Caring John, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Human Sherlock, M/M, Masturbation, Pain, Painkillers, Sassy John Watson, Sherlock Being a Drama Queen, Sick Character, Sick Sherlock, Sickness, Stomach Ache
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 15:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18968155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiriuslySherlocked/pseuds/SiriuslySherlocked
Summary: Sherlock gets sick for like, the first time ever.





	Sick

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Human After All](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2135757) by [mycapeisplaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mycapeisplaid/pseuds/mycapeisplaid). 



John had never heard Sherlock masturbate before. He had lived with him for years, and he had never heard it or found any evidence that implied it. Of course, he had seen Sherlock be sexually pleasured before, namely because _he_  was the one that was doing it, but he had never heard him at it alone. Eventually, he began to assume Sherlock Holmes  _didn't_ masturbate, which was why he was so surprised--and intrigued--when he heard moaning coming from Sherlock's bedroom. He shamefully listened in, just for a few seconds, because obviously the phenomenon that was Sherlock wanking was one he couldn't miss, but he noticed that the moans sounded more painful than pleasurable. No, they were groans of pain, some sort of illness. Sherlock never seemed to get sick, either, but John listened for a bit longer before he was sure it was safe to knock on the door. 

"Sherlock? You alright?"

He only got a long and miserable groan in response.

He opened the door to see Sherlock curled up on his bed, a strained expression on his face, the bottom of his shirt unbuttoned as well as the fly of his pants. Sherlock let out a little whine and curled up into an even tighter ball.

"What's the matter?" John said, concerned, because he had never in his life seen Sherlock act like this.

"Joooohn," Sherlock groaned. "It huuuuuurts."

"What hurts?"

"My stomach," Sherlock replied. "It hurts so badly and I can't get it to go away. It's awful, it's  _miserable,_ just let me _die_ \--"

"Okay, calm down," John said. "What did you eat today, anything different? Under-cooked? Difficult to digest?"

Sherlock groaned again. "M'dunno. Didn't eat much. Chinese take-out. Got the same thing as always."

"Maybe it was under-cooked or was carrying some sort of disease," John said. "Do you want any medicine?"

"Medicine won't help... I just have to wait and  _suffer_..."

John rolled his eyes. "It's really that bad?"

" _Yes_ ," Sherlock insisted. "You know I'm not one to over-dramatize--"

John snorted.

"--Shut up--I don't  _get_  sick, I'm  _me_."

"Yeah, I'll agree on that," John mumbled. "But despite your beliefs, you  _are_ human, and you're going to have human problems at some time or another."

Sherlock just whimpered. "Don't wanna be human..."

"Well, lucky for you, to most people you aren't."

"Would you shut up and help me?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"You're a fucking doctor, John!"

"Well then you're going to have to give me a better description than "it huuuuuurts," John said, eyeing him.

"Well I don't know what else you want me to say. My stomach hurts really badly."

John rolled his eyes. "Alright, we'll start with this then: does it actually  _hurt_  or is it nausea?"

"A bit of both," Sherlock mumbled. 

"Diarrhea?"

"Ew, no."

"Fever?"

"Maybe."

John stepped over, holding a hand to Sherlock's forehead. "Mm, yeah, I'd say so. Anything else? Common things, running or stuffed up nose, cough, sore throat?"

"No," Sherlock said. "I dunno what's wrong... I never get sick..."

"Well, welcome to your first time being sick," John muttered absentmindedly, walking over to the bathroom and rummaging around the medicine cabinet. "You must've eaten something. If there's no diarrhea or actual vomiting it probably isn't a food borne illness. You probably just ate something that didn't agree with you, and it'll go away in a little while. If it doesn't or you start getting more severe symptoms, we'll check back then. As for the fever, that should go away in a day or so. Fevers usually don't last too long if they aren't serious."

"So I just have to lie here and  _wait_?" Sherlock whined.

"Calm down, I'll give you medicine," John mumbled, pulling out bottles of pain-relieving and fever-reducing pills. "Here," He said, measuring out the correct amounts of each into the palm of his hand and filling up a glass of water, handing them both to Sherlock.

"How long will they take to work?" Sherlock asked pitifully, looking up at him.

"I don't know, maybe twenty, thirty minutes," John said. "Stop whining. You're not dying."

"I could be," Sherlock mumbled, dropping the pills into his mouth and swallowing them down with water.

John rolled his eyes, climbing into bed with him. "Such a drama queen, you are," He murmured, pulling Sherlock into his arms. "Will it feel better if I cuddle you?"

"Yes," Sherlock said without hesitation.

"Good, you're even more annoying when you whine," John said, kissing his forehead. "Feel better, love."


End file.
